Because becoming a functional adult is driving me insane…

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As I sit here on New Year’s Eve (nursing a cold because, of course this year should kick my arse one more time before it expires), I find myself deeply conflicted over the year that was. It’s been one of the worst years in my adult life, fraught with illness, treatments, side effects, failures, and disappointments. But at the same time, it’s been one of the best years I’ve had as a married person; Joey’s and my relationship has grown by leaps and bounds while trying to make sense of our circumstances. I’ve learned more about myself in these twelve months than I ever knew, and I’ve done things I never thought I’d be able to do.

I also find myself ill-at-ease about what 2017 has in store. I do know that the infertility journey will continue. Round 3 of the meds/trigger shot didn’t work, so we get one more try with that before we have to make the decision as to whether to visit the infertility clinic or go ahead and start saving money to go toward an adoption. Will 2017 be filled with pregnancy and labor and a baby? Or home studies and paying thousands to an adoption agency, waiting and hoping someone chooses us to give their child to? It’s too overwhelming to think about at this point.

So in light of this time of reflection, here are 16 things I learned this year.

I learned that (non-life-threatening) surgery isn’t as scary as I’d feared. I was pretty terrified the couple of days before my endometrioma removal, but the day of, I was remarkably calm. After an excellent nap, I was back home only six or seven hours after I’d left.

I’ve learned that you should try to avoid opiates as much as possible. I didn’t even take that many of them and STILL ended up with weeks of stomach and (lack of) poop troubles. No way.

I learned what my insides look like. Gross.

I learned how to tell where your ovaries are on an ultrasound, what cysts and follicles look like (and when they’re big enough).

I learned what endometriosis really is and why I’ve always felt crampy and uncomfortable for most of my adult life.

I learned what menopause feels like (along with bone pain, brain fog, etc).

I learned that walking in the woods and hiking mountains cures most of my anxieties.

I learned that I can do HARD physical things. And I have the journey up Mount Mitchell and FIVE 5K races to prove it.

I learned that diet and exercise changes really can drastically improve your body in both appearance and lab results.

I learned over and over again, with every small and large gesture, that my husband is one of the best people on the planet and far better than I deserve.

I learned that being responsible for a dog really does make me want to be a better person.

I’ve learned to change my prayer from “God, please let me have ‘x,'” to “God, please help me to accept what You are going to do.” (still working on this, obviously)

I’ve learned to stop clinging so tightly to things I’ve loved in the past but that cause a great deal of stress and anxiety.

I’ve learned that I don’t want to have to hustle to be a freelance writer; I may love to write, but I don’t love the stress of constant pitching to clients. I’ll be okay in my stable, corporate job at this point; I’ll write because I love to and will just wait on God to see what comes.

I’ve learned that adult coloring books are straight out of heaven.

I’m starting to learn that I don’t need to apologize for saying “no” to things sometimes. It’s not my job to fulfill everyone else’s needs all the time.

I think I’ll be back tomorrow with goals for January. Signing off for now.

Well, I let some more time pass, despite my intent to continue to share this endometriosis and infertility journey with you. I’m sorry. Honestly, my high after finishing the Lupron has worn off entirely, and the last few months have been crappier than I could ever have imagined.

First, things did not “start back” in the timeframe that the interwebs led me to believe was normal. Which meant I couldn’t start back up on the fertility meds. Which also meant I needed to be pumped full of hormones to kick it all back in gear. As you can imagine, a “hormone bomb” like Provera creates a Melanie who cries constantly. I can’t tell you how many times I burst into tears for little reason, sobbing and apologizing to Joey for being ridiculous. He just laughed and soldiered on, as has become his modus opperandi this past year. Someday, I hope I can return the favor by actually taking care of him instead of the reverse. And he’s working three jobs these days, so his stress is already quite high.

So, it was back to the Femara (a med like Clomid that stimulates follicle production on your ovaries, thereby increasing the likelihood that you’ll ovulate). This time, though, we added in an Ovidrel “trigger” shot. The shot forces ovulation within 24-36 hours. It is not covered by insurance, and it’s $140 a pop. Now, we’re not destitute or anything, but come on. Still, I found myself excited this time…the endo was under control, ovulation was a sure thing; what could go wrong?

It didn’t work, that’s what. I had my annual checkup with my OBGYN a few days later and she told me not to get discouraged, that it’s fairly common for it to fail on the first try. That lifted my spirits some and we prepared ourselves for Round 2.

On Round 2, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get excited or hopeful this time so I wouldn’t be as disappointed when it didn’t work. And I was successful at that for the first week. But around 8 days post-ovulation, I started feeling “off.” And that led me down the road of symptom-spotting and agonizing over every little twinge. Needless to say, when it became fully evident that Round 2 failed on Saturday, 12/3, I was devastated.

In all honesty, I don’t like Christmas. I don’t like the commercialism. I don’t like the Elf on the Shelf. I don’t like the pressure on parents (self-imposed or otherwise) to create a magical “Santa” experience for their children. I don’t like the obligations, busy-ness, endless presents to buy (the bulk of which to be returned, thrown away, or stashed in some corner somewhere until they’re discarded when eventually rediscovered), social events to attend, weeks and weeks and weeks of extra rehearsals eating up what precious little free time I already have. There’s just too much stress that comes with the month of December, and in my worst moments, I want to run for the hills and return sometime mid-January.

So I didn’t even get a chance to fully grieve the failure of Round 2. I had to go to a six hour dress rehearsal the morning I discovered it. Then I had to sing in a Christmas program the next day. Then my office Christmas party. Then Joey’s office Christmas party. I painted on a fake smile and told everyone that I was doing just fine. We started Round 3.

Then Joey’s uncle died very unexpectedly and suddenly on the 13th. We were all quite close, and Joey was one of the first to arrive at the house, just after the paramedics. Just like that, Uncle Bob was gone and then came the business of trying to make sense of what had happened, settle his affairs, and take care of our newly-widowed aunt. All while in the midst of medications and ultrasounds, scheduling trigger shots, etc. I felt guilty for even worrying about our infertility drama, but just as the world does not stop spinning for death, neither does it stop spinning for the biological clock, so Round 3 had to trudge on whether or not we felt hopeful or had time for it.

And that brings us up to the present. Also, I forgot to mention that I broke my toe two months ago and it’s still healing (it’s hard to heal a toe when you don’t have time to stay off it), and I managed to get pinkeye just a couple of days after Uncle Bob died, and thus had to miss visiting the nursing home and seeing my grandmas for Christmas.

We haven’t been able to hike since Black Friday. And never more have I needed to be out on a trail than this last couple of months. Another reason December bites…we’ve just been too busy. We’re going hiking on Monday (the day after Christmas), and I don’t intend on seeing a car for at least six hours. We’re hiking all of the miles, injured toe and all.

I’m 4 days post-ovulation today. I had two follicles on Monday. I’d think that increases the chances that this round will work, but I’m not about to let myself get my hopes up again. And I’m not about to even think about symptoms. It’s not worth the pain. We get one more shot after this and then my OB wants to refer us to REACH (the infertility clinic). I’m not sure how helpful it’ll be since we don’t intend to do in-vitro, and it’s sketchy whether my insurance will cover any of it. There comes a point where we have to look at the situation logically. We can either shell out money for REACH or save up to begin the adoption process. I’m leaning toward adoption at this point. We’ll see how it plays out.

So, Merry Freaking Christmas. I hope yours is merry and bright. I just want mine to be over.

Thank goodness; they started to go away after about four weeks, which, from what I read, was the normal timeframe for that process to begin. I cannot express in words how glad I am for the bone pain to be gone. I’ve even managed to run a couple of times since with NO pain, which makes me pretty excited about fall/winter hiking and my next two 5Ks I’ve got scheduled. My mood has improved VASTLY, although I’m not gonna lie, I sure would like to have some PMS symptoms about now so we can get back on the fertility treatment train. But mostly, I’m just so grateful to have survived the Lupron experience and come out on the other side relatively unscathed. I even managed a 5.3 mile hike on Labor Day in which I didn’t end up stumbling and tripping constantly. I can’t tell you how much more enjoyable that makes hiking.

2. The weight has come back off!

I gained about 11 pounds throughout the course of the treatment. Although I was pissed about it, I didn’t beat myself up too much because I’d largely managed to keep from eating all of the food (one of my Lupron Goals), so I figured that it would come off relatively quickly once my appetite went back to normal. And it DID! I’ve actually lost about 17 pounds since July 16th and am seeing numbers I haven’t seen in five years. It hasn’t been effortless by any stretch; I’ve had to work hard and really clean up my diet, but it’s led to a completely different relationship with food and an understanding about what my body needs and how to fuel it properly (more on that in a future post).

3. I hiked Mount Mitchell!

You’ll recall that this was my most important Lupron Goal. And I did it. I’ll post a longer recap of the hike itself later. It was by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever done physically, and outside of holding the family together while my dad was in the hospital back in 2007, it was the toughest mental battle too. I had a panic attack when it started raining on us, and it took significantly longer than I thought it would, but I reached the top, bloody, dirty, and tear-stained, and I stood on the observation deck looking across what seemed like hundreds of mountains, feeling like I’d conquered the world. I did it.

4. I’m getting paid to write!

This actually happened a little after the Lupron treatment was completed, but I’m still counting it as one of my Lupron Goals. I’ve been writing for #AmReading for a few weeks now, and while the pay isn’t much, it’s been fun and interesting and is looking to be the launching point for landing higher-paying clients. I’m writing about books and reading, and you can check out some of my articles here, here, here, here, here, and here!

There is a downside, though, I must be honest. I can no longer blame my grumpiness on the Lupron. While it has improved and the little bit of patience I had has come back, I’ve always been pretty crusty and prickly, so I’ve lost my excuse. I’ve had to replace, “sorry! I’m just Lupron grumpy!” with “Sorry, I’m just a horrible person and you’re annoying.” So that sucks.

I can tell you, without reservation, that I do not regret my decision to go through treatment with Lupron Depot. It was hard…probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. But I can also tell you that I’ve come out on the other side feeling better, healthier, and stronger than I have in quite some time. And I credit a lot of that to Joey. I never would’ve made it through this without a constant source of support and unconditional love (and LOTS of patience), someone to be a caretaker and sounding board, to remind me that I could make it through this. Joey and Jesus got me through:).

This isn’t the end of the story; I promise. There are too many things going on (both good and bad), and I want this endometriosis, infertility, weight loss, and personal growth journey out there, if nothing else than to show people that it’s possible to survive–and maybe even thrive–through tough times.

I went off the reservation for a while; sorry about that. Honestly, I haven’t felt like doing much of anything these past several weeks. I’m so glad that the first few months were relatively easy, because I don’t know that I could’ve made it all the way through if the side effects were so rough right out of the gate.
So, here’s a rundown of what’s happened as far as the side effects are concerned.

The clumsiness has gotten much better. I don’t get lightheaded upon standing, and I haven’t had too many instances of tripping or stumbling. It was definitely pronounced during the first three months, but has gone away for the most part since.

The joint and bone pain has gotten MUCH worse. No more PRs for me on 5ks right now. I’m doing well if I can get out and walk, much less run. I am still getting out faithfully, though (except today, because I really do think I need to give my legs a rest). I keep track of my steps through my Jawbone Up, and I made my goal every day in June. We’ve managed a few 8+ mile hikes (Mitchell in less than three weeks!!), but my legs, arms, and hands hurt constantly. My mantra has become, “If I’m going to hurt sitting, and I’m going to hurt moving, I may as well be moving.”

The sadness/depression/anxiety/grumpiness has gotten worse. I’m avoiding just about anything that’ll make me sad, which is pretty much everything. My patience is extremely thin, so if I’m not feeling like I want to cry, I am feeling like I want to bite everyone’s head off.

I’ve gained about ten pounds. I chalk it up to my own decisions. I’ve eaten too much because “I can afford to do it since I’m exercising so much.” I’ve picked stuff that’s easier/more convenient rather than picking healthier choices. So that’s all on me; I hate it, but I don’t blame it on the Lupron. I’m back on the wagon, so I anticipate losing it relatively quickly.

The hot flashes are still manageable. It probably helps that it’s summer, so it’s hot as balls anyway.

People keep asking me, “but does your endo pain feel better?” Honestly, since I didn’t know I had it before, I haven’t noticed. Maybe my insides don’t hurt as much, but my arms and legs hurt so bad that I want to cry sometimes, so I’m not sure what the improvement will be as far as that goes. But that wasn’t the reason that I agreed to take the drug anyway.

I got my final injection this morning. Ginger gave me a big hug and said that she wanted to see me again when I’m pregnant. I appreciate her optimism. So I’ll have another month or so of Lupron side effects (and whatever residual effects there may be), and then we start the fertility journey again.

I have mixed emotions; I know it’s weird, but “Lupron” has become my identity over this last five months. While the physical process has been difficult, it’s also been good in that it’s forced me to be in the present moment. There’s been no point in worrying about whether or not we’ll be able to have kids since we couldn’t even try. My focus has been on getting through this moment, this day, this week…preparing for Mount Mitchell, trying to keep from eating all the food, getting out the door and walking or running. Thinking about the future was pointless because I felt so far removed from it.

In that respect, I’m afraid. Now the process begins again, and I don’t know what it’s going to look like. More shots? More hormones? More side effects? More heartbreak?

On the other hand, I’m a little excited. I never thought I’d say this, but I missed the temperature charting and testing, and that twinge of excitement for a couple of weeks of imagining the possibilities and hoping for a BFP (Big, Fat Positive). I missed the feeling of hope.

I go back to the OBGYN on the 26th and we’ll discuss our next steps then. Until that, my main focus is to summit Mount Mitchell on the 23rd.

Last weekend, Joey and I took a trip to Waynesville, NC, to stay in a cabin in the woods and hike all the miles. Although the accommodations left a bit to be desired, I think this was probably the best camping trip we’ve ever had.

On Friday, we hiked the Pink Beds Loop again, but this time, we made it all the way to the waterfall off the Barnett Branch Trail. It was WELL worth the mile of straight uphill. The waterfall was about 25 feet high, and the water was ice cold. Indy was thrilled to get a drink.

Here’s a shot of Indy at our campsite. She looks so regal. I think I overestimated her ability to adapt to a strange situation, though. She didn’t enjoy being trussed up on a lead, and she was afraid of the campfire. She’ll learn, though.

On Saturday, we went to the North Carolina Arboretum. I’ll have to do a separate post dedicated to that, because I took a TON of pictures. The below is part of their quilt garden; every year, they create a different pattern on individual squares. This year was a butterfly; can you see it?

They also had a fantastic bonsai exhibit. Joey has dabbled with bonsai here and there, so he was beyond thrilled to see all of the trees. I took pictures of each one, and it’s definitely renewed his interest in picking it back up again.

We ended up leaving on Sunday so we’d have a day to recuperate at home, but not before hiking Pinnacle Park in Sylva, NC. While we didn’t make it all the way up to the pinnacle, we did get plenty of beautiful pictures along the way. The below is at Split Rock, about a half mile up the trail.

The first mile of the hike was along this creek; it was full of cascades and rapids, and Indy wanted to check out each one.

We hiked a total of 11.5 miles over the course of three days. It was exhilarating, but also an eye-opener. We’ve got a lot of work left to do before Mount Mitchell at the end of July.

I’m still counting it as a victory over Lupron, though. On previous camping trips, we would’ve spent the bulk of our time hanging around the campsite and snacking. This time, we spent it out in nature, working out and getting excellent views along the way. I did have a few clumsy moments, but Joey was there to grab me before I stumbled. I had a few “Lupron sadness” moments as well, but he talked me out of those. He’s pretty great that way:).

Hiking has been such an effective means of dealing with this journey through endometriosis and its treatment. I’m forced to unplug while we’re out on a trail…there’s no phone reception, no chance to fiddle around on Facebook or check my Instagram feed. I’m forced to be observant of the present moment and little else; I have to watch the ground diligently for roots and rocks. I have to pay attention to my surroundings lest I miss a beautiful waterfall (or a bear…it goes both ways). There’s no time to think about my dysfunctional body or whether or not we’ll ever get to have a biological child.

If you’ll recall my list of side effects that suck, clumsiness and stumbling/falling is one of the more common ones. This one’s kind of tough, since there aren’t a whole lot of tricks and tips to offer. I suppose you could opt to use a walker until you’re done with the Lupron, but if you’re not receiving Social Security benefits due to your age, then you probably don’t want to do that. For the most part, I’m muddling through with this and just trying not to faceplant in front of people.

Don’t stand up too fast. My biggest problem is that I become lightheaded upon standing, but it doesn’t really hit me until I’ve taken about twenty steps. I spend the rest of my walk trying not to pitch forward. Stand slowly, and wait until the feeling passes before you start moving.

Lean against something (stable) for a moment after you stand. If I’m near a wall, I’ll rest on that for just a couple of seconds before starting off, or I’ll hold onto the back of my office chair for a bit before moving. It’s embarrassing, but better than meeting the floor face-to-face.

Walk deliberately. Pay attention to where you’re going, what the path in front of you looks like, and where the people around you are. Focus on your end destination and it’ll help you to keep from getting distracted and stumbling.

Use a friend. Joey’s probably tired of the amount of times I grab his arm while we’re walking somewhere. If you’ve been honest with your loved ones, they know that you’re dealing with clumsiness and won’t mind offering you a steadying shoulder to lean on.

Sit down! If you think you’re going to fall; sit down. It’s better to sit against a wall than to throw yourself into it. One requires medical attention and drywall repair. You can handle some minor embarrassment. Besides, people might toss change at you, which you can put toward your outrageously expensive medical bills.

Of course, it goes without saying (hopefully) that you may want to wait for the Lupron to leave your system before you head out for your Everest expedition or attempt to summit Denali. Or before you tightrope walk the Grand Canyon. Or take up with Cirque de Soleil.

Be careful out there, ladies.

**note, I am not a doctor…just a clumsy Lupron patient. None of my advice should outweigh anything your own doctor suggests you do. Although I sincerely hope s/he doesn’t tell you to climb Mount Everest while on Lupron.**

Thank goodness, Shot #4 was painless like #1 and #2. I made sure that I was completely relaxed, and other than the pinch of the initial stick, it was pain-free. Ginger blamed #3 on herself, but I told her I was certain that it was my fault for being tense.

The timing of the shot sucked, though…I had a 5K planned for two days later, and if you’ll recall from my list of side effects that suck, I’m usually in for three days of joint aches that make any kind of high-impact activity pretty painful. But I’d already paid my $35, so I was going to do this 5K, even if I had to crawl across the finish line in agony.

I was nervous, because Friday was a rough day. My hips and knees ached badly, and ibuprofen was only taking the edge off. On a side note, the sadness/weepiness and anxiety have been getting progressively worse with every shot. It’s still bearable, so I’m not waving a white flag, but I’m finding myself crying a lot more and getting overwhelmed by small things/worrying about huge things that I can’t control (getting older, job stress, the never-ending passage of time, etc). Joey has been an absolute rock through all of this; I have no idea what I’d do without him.

I was also seriously nervous about this 5K, because it was the first one I was going to do without Joey. I was running it with my best friend Katie, but she had her own goal pace (which was a good bit faster than mine), so I was going to be doing this on my own (although it was encouraging to know she’d be waiting for me at the finish line). Would I push myself hard enough, or would I just give up without Joey encouraging me to run a little bit more? Plus, this was going to be the biggest 5K I’d ever done. It was put on by the Carolina Panthers’ Keep Pounding Charity, to benefit the Levine Cancer Center. This wasn’t just some local 5K with a few hundred participants. Nope, we’re talking thousands. Would I get stuck in a pack of people? Would I be in the way, an obstacle for the “real” runners? Would I get lost and end up in another part of downtown Charlotte entirely?

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling better than Friday; my legs weren’t hurting as badly, so I took 3 ibuprofen and hoped that’d hold me through the race. Joey made me an egg over toast and a cup of coffee and I triple/quadruple/quintuple checked to make sure I had everything I needed in my race belt, that I had Katie’s shirt and bib, and that my playlist was all set and downloaded (Thank you, Amazon Prime Music!). I headed her way and we were off!

We arrived (with only a minor snafu getting to the parking deck) in plenty of time to get a shot in front of the stadium before being shuttled to the starting line at the Levine Cancer Center.

We stood around and stretched (and I agonized over being nervous), and then I noticed SIR PURR! Not only am I a huge Carolina Panthers fan, but (as you already know), I’m a huge cat fan in general, so I was super-psyched. I actually dressed as Sir Purr a couple of years ago for Halloween. I yelled “OMG, SIR PURR!!” and he ran right over for a pic. Forgive the blurriness…Katie had picture-taking anxiety.

The course itself was brutal; we started at the Levine Cancer center and ran all the way up Morehead street to the stadium. The race organizer playfully called it “Mount Morehead,” but he wasn’t kidding; it was almost entirely uphill. When we reached the stadium, we ran a lap around the outside, up the stairs, and into the north gate entrance. Once inside, we ran a lap around the ground level concourse and then up the ramps to the 500-level (holy crap). Then we went a short distance around the upper concourse and back down another set of ramps, out the players’ chute and through the finish line on the 50-yard line. So, as you can see, the bulk of the course was uphill (especially those ramps).

It was SUPER crowded at the start line, which was overwhelming. I kept freaking out and Katie kept telling me, “We’ve got this.” She was a little nervous too, but kept it together and kept encouraging me. Before we knew it, a horn sounded to start the race. I do wish they’d told the walkers to make their way toward the back, because we had to do a lot of dodging people and running out into the road to get around walkers. I kept up with Katie for two or three minutes, and I made it almost all the way through my first song before I had to take a walking break. I tried to stay to the right whenever I walked so I wouldn’t be an obstacle to folks who were running.

I started to get discouraged right away, which sucked. Normally, I would’ve had Joey there to say something at just the right time or to suggest that we run to some point up ahead and get my mind off the negative thoughts. But it was up to me this time.

I set a simple strategy; run as much as possible through each song on my playlist, run through each mile-marker sign, and run through each intersection so I didn’t have to have a cop holding traffic for me while I wheezed my way across the road. The scenery was pretty, and the day was PERFECT…maybe 60 degrees, a little breezy, and sunny.

I also made a commitment not to fall behind the folks around me; I focused in on a red-haired girl who appeared to be about my same fitness level and was run/walking as well. It worked like a charm.

Until we got to the ramps inside the stadium. I had to walk up all of them. Plus, I had only been in the stadium once before, so I didn’t realize that there were two ramps per level. I got up the fourth ramp and thought I was done, and then I saw the door leading inside and it said “300 Level.” Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit, I’m never going to make this. But I kept on walking and tried my best to keep up with the cadence of the music. I finally hit the top and I picked up running again.

I REALLY wanted to walk back down some of the ramps, but I told myself I wasn’t going to waste any downhill portions of the race (especially since there were so few), and I kept running. Toward the bottom, my earbuds fell out for good (I’ve got to get some new ones), so I just took them out altogether. Before I knew it, I saw daylight ahead and was running out the player’s entrance. WHAT a rush that was…the same entrance that Steve Smith ran through, DeAngelo Williams, Cam Newton…there I was…dodging some lady and her toddler, but running through nonetheless. I revelled in the moment for just a second, and then started scanning the line of cheerers for Katie. I heard her screaming “look at the clock!!” and I looked up and it said 44:20. WHAT?!! I spent the entire race feeling like I was going to fail again at my goal (being under 46). But here I was just a few yards from the finish line, and I was going to end up beating my goal by over a minute!

Katie snapped a pic of me:

I was shocked and thrilled and exhausted. My official time was 44:35. Katie made her goal too (under 39). And I ran over half of the race (at least). Four months ago, I would never have believed I could’ve done that. According to many of the online accounts I’ve read of women who’ve taken Lupron, I shouldn’t have been able to do that. But I did.

Katie and I snapped a selfie, got our official times, snagged water and protein bars, and then sat in the parking deck for 40 minutes trying to get back out to come home. I also found that red-haired girl and told her I’d been trying to keep up with her, and that she did awesome. Everyone needs to hear when they’ve done a great job.

The ibuprofen worked like a charm…not one bit of joint pain during the run, and I haven’t had any since, either. I even went with Joey and Indy on a celebratory lap around the neighborhood after I got back home.

On the technical front, I need new earphones and a new running belt. I don’t have enough room in the one I currently have for my phone, ID and keys. My driver’s license fell out on the field while we were getting our official times. I saw it happen, so I was able to pick it up quickly, but there’s always the chance that it could happen and I wouldn’t catch it. I’m thinking of getting a Flip Belt; a couple of people had them at the race and they looked comfortable and secure.

On the “what’s next” front, I’m going to focus on endurance for the next couple of weeks rather than speed, because we’ve got two hikes planned over Memorial Day weekend (both in the mountains). Our next scheduled 5K is July 4th, and I’d like to finish it in under 44 minutes.

I’m proud. I’m proud that I managed all by myself. Katie even offered to give up her goal and run with me, and I told her not to. I’m proud that I picked up and ran again every time I felt exhausted. I’m proud that I didn’t give up. I’m proud that I’m not using Lupron as an excuse to stay on the couch, even when I don’t feel the best. Endometriosis isn’t going to win this. It’s not going to beat me, and it doesn’t have to beat you either.

Here’s my playlist in case you’d like to use it:

Tik Tok – Ke$ha

Turn Down for What – DJ Snake & Lil Jon

Lips are Movin – Meghan Trainor

Boom Boom Pow – The Black Eyed Peas

Hey Mama – The Black Eyed Peas

Toxic – Britney Spears

Lose Yourself – Eminem

Word Crimes – Weird Al

Chariots of Fire – London Philharmonic Orchestra

Can’t Hold Us – Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

Bring Me to Life – Evanescence

Eye of the Tiger – Survivor

Wannabe – Spice Girls (I finished the race before this one started, thankfully!)